035: The Taste of Perfection
by Rhiononon
Summary: A temptation, that craving for the knowledge of what true completion was - it all nearly broke him, because of the simple taste of perfection. Prequel to Darkness Rises from the Deep. Nuada/Nuala
1. Chapter 1

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Title: The Taste of Perfection  
Author: Rhion  
Rating: AO  
Summary: A temptation, that craving for the knowledge of what true completion was - it all nearly broke him, because of the simple taste of perfection.  
Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.  
AN: An idea that popped into my head. Pre-creation of the Golden Army. As per Lei's request, I'll ad a squick warning, and there's also some major UST on Nuada's part, even if he does get laid... Ties into A Darkness Rises Beneath but takes place about two thousand years beforehand, and spans to just after Nuada's self-imposed exile. I'm operating on several assumptions, one is the fact that the Morrigan is a triplet goddess, two the Greek belief that twins were of two fathers (one godly, one mortal), three that Nuada and Nuala _are as the gods made them_ and since their mother _is_ a god, as per Juliette Louise's _Fear Me_ and _Fear Her_ mythos, that the Morrigan knew _exactly _what she was creating. Anyone familiar with various mythos is aware that hubris of man causes grief, and ignoring the (frequently unclear) dictates/desires of gods incurs their wrath. I wish you to take note of the fact that in this first scene, Nuada and Nuala are about a hundred years old, and that the war with humans has not actually started in this first scene. In the subsequent ones, more time passes, as these are a series of scenes of significance that will slowly add up.

Kindly beta'd by Briala, and mused with she and Janni. I dunno what I'd do without those two.

XXX

His father had taken him aside, the arching slopes of the Underhills' sky soothing shades of blue on blue, lavender and orange highlights at the edges, a womb of earthen dimness, a backdrop that Nuada had lost the appreciation for at some point. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, comfortably keeping it steady and angled for ease of access and general movement while his thoughts traveled to plans for the afternoon. Nuada could feel his father's eyes examining him closely, but the King was silent for long enough that the young Prince was finally driven to say something.

"Is something amiss Father?" prompting as his patience wore - he had promised Nuala that he would walk with her through one of the fire-flower gardens.

Balor brushed a hand over his beard, then nodded once, "Yes, there is."

Coming alert, Nuada straightened, meeting his father's gaze evenly. "What must I do to assist?"

His father frowned, sorrow flashing over his expression. "My son, you embody all the physical strengths a man can bear. With such abilities, you are still weak in so many other ways."

"Father -" confused, hurt in some small way that his father viewed him as lacking, Nuada flinched. "Father, I do not understand. Tell me what I must do to show you that you can rely upon me in all areas, to show you that I am _not_weak."

The familiar hand on his shoulder was a warrior's, and it squeezed him firmly. "You are not half a man, but half a person. You contain all the weaknesses and darkness that a single person can, your honour and physical prowess all that keep them in check. But - just as you are strong physically and dark and bestial of heart, your sister is weak of body and strong where you are so weak. Will you then sully her with your darkness?"

Releasing a pained, shocked breath, Nuada wanted nothing more than to turn away from Balor's searching gaze. "I would do anything for her."

"I know my son, I know," with that his father's hand fell away. "Then you will do what it takes to protect her."

Sinking to one knee before his father, before his King, Nuada ducked his head. "Even from myself, my King."

XXX

Making notes in his sharply angled script, Nuada measured out another drop of bile into the beakers, watching the reaction between the bile and the mixture already there. It was with great care that he experimented with the potion. He already had some success in modifying the effects to allow the drinker to endure longer term exposure to direct sunlight without blindness, but such items always could use greater efficacy.

_...Nuada..._his name wafted through his mind as Nuala reached out for him.

Pausing in his note-taking, he carefully set the quill down. _What may I do for you, my sister?_

The massively thick door creaked open as his twin glided in, ethereal and delicate, "You have been absent much lately."

Unspoken was that he had avoided her. That he had been spending greater and greater amounts of time Above and Without, leading bands of warriors in skirmishes, and the occasional battle. That he had withdrawn from her as much as he could, kept his mind from seeking her out with blind need time and again for years now. He no longer reached out to touch her cheek, or press his hand to the small of her back, to embrace her. But he could not reject her outreaching, her touches, for he couldn't, wouldn't hurt her for anything by trying to change her own ways.

"There has been much that needed doing," allowing himself to meet her wide, curious gold eyes.

She had always been innocent of her effect upon him, even linked he sometimes wondered if she understood what she did. Nuala was deep and strong of heart, a vast intellect, capable of loving all around her, gracing them with a light brighter and more nurturing than the sun and moon. So he was not surprised when she drew nearer, was not amazed when she reached out her hand, wordlessly requesting him to stand, to come away from his constant working as she turned that bounty upon him.

"Is it true that there will be war, then?" her sorrow pressed at him as she sought comfort, the ever-present empathy for all the gods' creatures nearly overwhelming.

Brushing Nuala's dark gold locks from her face, not quite touching her skin daring that much, Nuada sighed. "It is no longer enough to simply warn them away from our borders, or to commit to light defense. War it is, my dear sister, and it already comes."

The urge was there, the one that took in the details of her upturned face at the light touch, the one that if their father hadn't deemed it inappropriate, would have caused him to press his mouth to hers. If she were any other woman, or he any other man, he would have done so. Instead he glanced away from the pleading look of a loved one desiring nothing other than his warmth, and let his hand fall free. Always they had been inseparable except when duty called him, and even being young adults had frequently shared a room as often as possible. It had always felt natural, and not wrong. But their father was correct to some degree - _he_ was the dark one to her light. The feelings he had themselves were not incorrect, but his _darkness_, the jealousy, the demand, the fearful need that required he never be apart from her, or have another hold any of Nuala's affection - those he knew as wrong.

While she learned and practiced magics, collecting tome upon tome of knowledge, he learned war, made games of puzzles and saw alchemy as a challenge. He served destruction, in all ways. The only tethers that kept him separate from the burning hole that greed burrowed in human hearts was his honour, and Nuala. So he had turned all of those urges towards protection, in guarding his people - but Nuala above all others.

"Please walk with me then," her arm looped itself in his, and he couldn't deny Nuala her sweet request. "You will be leaving again too soon, and I must gird myself for your absence."

XXX

Slumped in the bath, Nuada drowsed, sore from returning from doing battle with humans. They were so numerous, and it felt as though for every ten he killed, thousands more were ready to spring up and fill their places. It was exhausting, left him aching for completion even more keenly than before the war had truly begun. What had once been a sweet pain in his breast and mind easily alleviated by Nuala's presence had become an agony. Adding the repressing of everything, of each urge, of each desire, no matter how simple - a kiss, an embrace, a held hand, a long walk or quiet meal together - had him ready to scream from the anguish.

So much of his energy was spent on closing his mind enough so that she would not feel his desires, for so often she acted upon them whenever his vigilance lapsed. One such night he had awoken to her entering his bedchamber to climb beneath the sheets, her feet and hands so cold when she tucked them tightly to his body. He had kept things as proper as he could, slipping over the sheet so that a layer was between them. Nuala had sent him her confusion at that action - not so long ago he had never done such a thing, never put such a space between them. But always their father would seem to know of these happenings, and would take him aside once more, admonishing him to not pervert her with his darkness.

Before he had left on the last foray to the Above and onto human controlled plains, Nuala had come to him as he had been checking his gear. A private goodbye was not anything to worry over, or so he had thought. But seeing her in blue, such a beautiful blue that captured the sky of Above in all the hues possible, Nuada had had a flash of tasting her lips, of holding her closer until their hearts were one, and he could be complete. An echoing thing had risen up in her molten gold eyes, and Nuala's smile had warmed and eased him. He felt suddenly her own ache for completion, the desire to be close and inseparable, however he was aware there were none of the same undercurrents of possession as he had. Still she stood there, tempting him with her presence and smile, inviting him as he could see the same need in her.

Always he had pulled away or diverted action but that time, when she smiled, her head tilted to the side, he could not stop himself from cupping her cheek in full. Lids had fluttered and the soft as peach of Nuala's skin rubbed over his calloused palm while she leaned into his now rare initiation of contact. Resolve cracking, Nuada was nearly helpless to stop himself from leaning in slowly, closer and closer until he could taste her breath, could count the flecks of red and black in her irises, barely more than a whisper between their lips.

Shuddering, Nuada rolled onto his side partially in the large tub, the remembered closeness driving his body to agonizing arousal. Squeezing his erection, he locked his shields down as hard as he could, so close to giving in again. He had in the field, he hadn't been able to help it, but had been far enough away that with enough mental focus he had been able to - he prayed to the gods fervently that it was so - keep Nuala from the scorching lust. Here he couldn't risk such an action not with her so close. Seeking to strangle not just his desire, but the proof of it, he wasn't paying attention, a lapse that anywhere except in his own chambers would be unforgivable.

_What is wrong brother?_Nuala whispered to him, and he felt steps rushing from her room to his.

Releasing a shaking breath, he clamped down even harder on his mind, but not his body, not wishing to broadcast to her his needs. _Nothing my sister. I am merely over-tired._

His door made nary a sound but for the faint brushing over a rug as she entered and light footsteps came in, disregarding his nudity, giving him nearly no time to straighten in the bath. "Nuada, my brother, please." Hands that were perpetually cooler than his moved to his shoulders - his _bare_shoulders. "Tell me what distresses you so?"

Forcing calm, Nuada leaned forward, soaping the washcloth though he had no need to wash as he had already done so. "It is truly nothing to worry over, my sister. Fatigue has me at wits end that is all and nothing more."

Nuala reached around him without hesitation - after all, when had he _ever_ let himself slip so much that she had reason to fear him? - to take the washcloth from his hand. What followed was a study of mental and physical torture as she bathed him with all the love and intimacy she was capable of turning upon him. It was an exercise in hellish control that he was marginally successful in muting his mind. There was a small gasp of surprise and he realized suddenly that the link had gone dim, almost as though there were a vast distance between them in spite of her being beside him, _touching_him.

"Nuada - what, what are you doing?" distress painted each word, the shock of being so bereft of his mental presence resonating to him so strongly that it was nearly a physical blow.

Swaying back Nuada pressed a heel to his temple, the pain she felt washing over him in a torrent. He could feel _her_ but she couldn't feel _him_. It was her tears that caused the focus to crumble and come crashing down. Pushing himself up from the tub, water sloshing, unheeding of his state or her finery he was out of the bath and pulling her into his arms protectively. Drawing her pain into himself, Nuada siphoned it from Nuala, locking it away deep inside, while reaching for her heart to soothe it.

In his arms she sobbed, face pressed to his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders as they sank to the floor, "Please, Nuada, Nuada never do that again. Don't take yourself away from me like that again. Please, please my brother."

Stroking her silk covered back, he pressed his cheek to her crown. "Do not cry Nuala, I'm here."

"I need you, Nuada," voice trembling and raw, her tears against his flesh like sweet acid.

"And I, you," whispering, laying a kiss to her temple the way he used to, holding her as he used to, when things were simple and he had no fear of spreading his darkness to her light.

For a brief moment he was content, for a moment he was complete. _They_were complete. Tall as she was, Nuala was slight enough for him to carry her to his bed, where he stretched out beside her, and they lay face to face, hands clasped between them, tucked over the other's heart.

_...I had wished to spare you the visions in my mind,_explaining silently to her.

Her fingers twitched and tightened around his. _I don't care. Nuada, you are my brother, and I need you, there is nothing in you that would change that. This isn't the first time you have shut me away...why do you do this? It hurts when you mute yourself to such silence._

In his breast, his heart shuddered under the words that were absent accusation, but he had plenty to accuse himself of. _There are many things in this world to protect you from, sweet Nuala. That is why._

Relief moved through him when she accepted that, and merely nestled closer. For a moment he thought she might panic as he pulled his hand away, but he sent her the warmth of his presence as he pulled blankets over them both. Kissing their entwined fingers, Nuada let himself uncoil, only keeping a small part of his mind locked away from her linking with him. In the morning he knew he would pay, but for now he could be at peace, no matter how temporary.

XXX

Answering his father's summons with trepidation, Nuada strode to the King's study. Outside the two raven guards stared from beneath their beaked helmets without emotion. Barely sparing them a glance he entered the warm office. Gold and red, the royal colours, abounded, and Balor rose from his reading chair beside his fire. The gentle clinking of his signs of office chimed, and Nuada noted with some small relief that his father was dressed informally otherwise, his great robe draped on a nearby stand.

"You summoned me Father?" asking after delivering a low bow.

"My son, why do you do these things?" the staccato rumble of his voice filled the room.

His shoulders tensed as the words fell like blows. Schooling his features to blankness, Nuada breathed slowly and measured his heartbeats. In the place she had always held, he felt Nuala wafting through his mind, but he gently began muting his thoughts, creating a section of blandness for her so that she didn't know what was happening to him. It was not so different as numbing her pain by taking it into himself, which had just been an extension of blocking his own pain from spilling over to her. Their father's disapproval and frustration beat the air, and Nuada very nearly sank to his knees to plead with his father to accept that he was unable to live up to those expectations. They were unreasonable for a simple warrior to reach for, no matter how he strove - not when he lived and breathed Nuala, not when he had to remind her to eat when he felt her hunger pangs for her, or to sleep when she was tired.

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" Balor pressed.

Hanging his head, knowing it was true, "Nothing acceptable."

"Then tell me something unacceptable! Tell me why your manservant found you _naked_in bed with your sister. You are not children anymore to twine together like kittens in a pile!" the volume escalated, and for a moment, Nuada thought his father might strike him.

The very thought made him wish to wail.

Staring at some point over Balor's shoulder, he could at least protect and defend Nuala's honour. "She was clothed and there were blankets between us, Father. There was nothing more than company and sleeping involved."

The King sat heavily in his chair suddenly. "It does not matter if nothing more happened this time. Nuada, you are a man, and you have needs that you have never addressed. To have her so near is too great a temptation for you I fear."

In his breast, Nuada's heart spasmed in terror for a brief second before he quashed and held it all down and away from the area where Nuala was singing to herself as she read. If their father separated them in truth, what would happen? Who would keep her safe if he was not there to do so?

"My needs are few, Father," he said instead. "I keep myself in check."

"You do not stop her from seeking you out. And so you are tempted, and will be tempted again and again, unless you put a stop to it." Exhaustion, sorrow, and shame went over his father's features as he looked away from him. "Find a woman to deal with your baser natures and set your sister at an appropriate distance. Otherwise I will be forced to send her to one of the other courts."

Everything went cold, and he became dizzy at such a prospect, his gaze darting to look away, hoping to hide his horror. "Travel to another court could be dangerous, and the humans - they are so many, they could attack as she journeyed -"

"_Enough_. Find a woman, find a man, find whatever you need to vent those urges that make you animal and solve this dilemma before I have to solve it for you," hands clasped the carved ends of the armrests, his tone imperiously stern.

Swallowing thickly, Nuada bowed as his hands trembled. "As you command, Majesty. I live but to serve."

As he straightened, Balor stopped him, "You think it is cruelty that I subject you to my son. It is not. This is for the good of you both, as adults you must set aside this childishness and cease cleaving to that link you share. It is only physical, nothing more - you both have invested far more emotion and time on it than was healthy or necessary, breeding this sick dependency."

His heart shouted in betrayed anguish, shouted as loud as it could that the link was so much more. That his life and hers were as intertwined as two trees that sprouted from a single seed, and then the roots had grew into one. Stilling his tongue, Nuada didn't look to see his father, couldn't bear the sight of him for discounting what was so obvious. Instead he resolved to find some woman to do as he had been bid and sacrifice his virginity to ensure that Nuala wasn't sent far, so far away that he would be unable to remind her of all those things that she needed him to remind her of.

XXX

Nuada barely looked at the woman, for that is what she was - a woman. Older than him by centuries, well acquainted with men, experienced in the bedroom, and most of all, willing. It was a despicable thing he intended, but for Nuala he could and would do it. In his secret heart he had never intended to hand over his body to anyone other than Nuala, as impossible as that would be to ever gain. Better to have nothing than something disposable and meaningless. The very thought left a foul taste in his mouth, but he was both resolved and resigned with his course of action. There was no other choice.

Reaching for Nuala first, _My sister, do not be alarmed, but I must...keep us separate for a brief period of time._

Surprise, startlement and a flash of fear echoed to him, _Why?_

_Nuala, please my dearest sister, trust that I will not be absent from you over-long,_urging her quietly.

_...It...hurts when you mute your mind,_the pleading tore at him even as he was locking the door to his quarters and pouring himself and his companion for the duration glasses of wine.

Clenching his jaw, he handed a cup to the woman who was not Nuala, covering his frustration with a long drink from his own goblet. _My sister, there are some things a man needs to do alone. This is one of those times. I do not wish to hurt you, can you understand that? There will be...spill over if I do not close my mind to you._

_Oh Nuada, I do not care if I feel what you feel,_ almost a sad but delicate laugh thrummed to him. _It is better to feel you than to have you gone. What if you closed yourself to me so much that it could never be undone? What would we do then?_

Deciding that there was no way to dissuade her without being more upfront, _Nuala, I am going to have sex. I do not think you should be a party to it. I am sorry, but I must mute myself or you will be forced to join me in my encounter._

More confusion, innocent and unsure. _I don't understand. Is that a bad thing?_

_Sister,_ exasperation came over him - she was making this far more difficult than he could bear. _This...this is not negotiable. I must do this thing, and I do not wish to expose you to it. I do this to alleviate the pain I have been feeling of late. Do you understand now?_

He felt her withdraw, hurt. _No. But you will do as you will._

Releasing a sigh of half relief, half guilt, Nuada walled his mind off, though distantly he could feel her pain at such separation. Then he muted even that. The night's task would be difficult enough without such a distraction.

He was being watched the whole time during the short exchange, the regard earnest. That did nothing for him, or his aggravation. However he summoned up a tight smile, returning her look as best he could. In return he received a smile and he made himself take her hand, leading her to his couch. The mechanics were obvious, and even the route of seduction took little to deduce - but Nuada had no experience in it. Nor had he ever wished for any.

Her hand was frigid in his, and between sips of her wine, she examined the callouses with fingers that he wanted nowhere near him. "Your hand is so warm, Your Highness."

Setting his goblet down, Nuada steeled himself. "It has always been so."

"Oh?" a flush of interest and surprise moved over her face, the coloring right, but the features wrong. "And here I had heard you had never done this before," the strange tone coy and grating to him.

Swallowing his urge to tell her that he wished for things to pick up pace so that they could be done with the unwanted dance, "What you hear is truth. I have not." Searching for something to say that was not rude or cruel, Nuada also sought out some reason to at least pretend enjoyment. "You will have to show me what you desire me to do."

That secret place was disgusted for a moment before he comforted it with the sudden realization that this could be viewed as a learning experience. One that that secret place could hope to utilize in an arena he preferred, with the woman he actually cared for instead of this one that was not Nuala. Then his father's intentions finally made sense to some degree - he would be able to pretend, if he was very careful, who he was with, and slack his lusts and animal urges. Balor and he both knew he would do whatever was necessary to keep Nuala safe. This was just another way of doing so.

Frigid fingers reached up to touch one of the spiraled and gouged scars at his temple. "You are most definitely a warrior, my Liege, so bold. No games between us then. It has been long enough since I last felt a man's touch that I have no wish to pretend anything." She dropped her hands from him, moving to stroke the stays that held her dress closed. "I want you to touch me, and I want to touch you. Nature will take us where it will."

Knowing the invitation and direction for what they were, Nuada leaned in and began unfastening her dress while she ran her hands through his hair. Squelching his discomfort he pulled on the things he had wanted so desperately with Nuala. Spreading the collar of her dress, he lidded his eyes as he moved to press their mouths together. Her tongue was so cold, even colder than Nuala's, or what he supposed Nuala's felt like. It had been a long time since his sister had sucked that splinter from his finger, so he couldn't be sure. Still the thought fired him, and the memory of her taking his hand when the splinter slid in to the meat of his thumb as he had been sharpening a quill for her, and her soft lips wrapping about the digit, while sucking gently, her tongue flicking the blood away made it all so much easier. A moan escaped him, and it was so very, very easy to supplant this woman's mouth for Nuala's in that brief instant.

With that thought in mind, his touch turned hungry as his hands spread her dress enough to cup the breasts there. Soft flesh met his palms, and erect nipples surprised him from the kiss as he touched them. Breaking away as his curiosity demanded information, and though he had to stop so his chest and abdominal armour pieces could be removed, Nuada was momentarily drawn by the gold tinted sepia of feminine nipples. Stroking the firmly erect nubs, he barely noticed as his companion unlaced the rest of her gown so it pooled around her waist, until she arched her back while pulling his face closer.

One of her hands was sliding under the collar of his tunic, "You can use your mouth on them if you like, Your Highness."

Pausing before doing as instructed, as the momentary spell had been broken, he finally did as she said. Silken flesh and the pebbled pearl pressed to his mouth as his lips parted and the taste of skin was overpowering, swamping his senses. A growl worked up, and he didn't know why, but there was something primal that made him suck hungrily first at one, then the other, half expecting satiation from such an action, as though he were a babe. The pleasure of the roughened aureole and bud rolling against the inner flesh of his lips woke in him the need to consume and devour. The smallest part of him that was still sane fervently thanked the gods that this woman was _not_Nuala, so that there was no fear of exposing her to rough hunger. It was that realization that brought him up short, made his devouring and grasping of his companion's chest turn slower but no less firm.

His nature may be bestial, but he was no animal.

When her fingers tugged at his tunic, he left off long enough to be free of the garment before returning to her chest, and found his mouth moving from just over her breast, but also to her shoulders and down again. This caused the pulse of her heart beneath his lips to pick up speed, and he could hear the air moving in and out of her lungs. When he found himself at her neck, the throbbing vein there drew his tongue flicking out, questing along that line, her taste and scent changing subtly to a sweeter perfume. It was nearly thick and his body flexed in time to the pulse there and with the rhythm of hands mapping his back and shoulders.

Nails scraped over his torso, aiming lower as he moved upwards to kiss her again. With a soft grunt he felt her grasp him through the fabric of his trews, and he pulled away to watch her other hand work at the folds of his sash. The pressure of her rubbing was insistent and he knew he would not keep a reign on his release if she kept that up, when suddenly her other hand was reaching for his bare flesh under the fabric.

"This will make it better. Be easy my Prince," soft murmurs as her mouth came to his once more.

Her kiss was softer, more confident and skilled than his own, and paired with the steady twisting, squeezing stroke over his manhood, left him rumbling, his hips rocking up from the couch cushion. Nuada opened his mouth further, copying the teasing of her tongue and sliding his against hers until he heard her moan just as he had earlier. The scent in the air intensified, and his body heated until he was dizzy with it.

The pressure built low, at the root of his cock, and when her second hand reached in to join the first there was a surprised pause when she reached his sack. "You're fertile?"

Flexing in her grip, he shook his head once, pulling her back, knowing that he must not stop for so many reasons. "Only ready to become so." Reiterating, "There is no risk."

There was uncertainty between them for a moment, and he understood its cause. As a virgin he should not be in this stage of readiness, should not have his body temperature so consistently high that his testicles must descend or risk damage. Only a man long partnered with a woman repeatedly had to worry over such items as pregnancy. After this encounter it wouldn't matter, his body would know this woman as not his, and while they would both gain pleasure there was no risk of laying a seed as his body would reject her womb, just as her womb would reject his essence.

With that she returned to what they were about, and Nuada threw himself into it. Not because he wanted her, but his body had presented its needs, and he would not sway from his course. He did this for his dearest, just another small cut inflicted on his soul to keep her safe. His body didn't care though, and the pressure rapidly returned, building in that only slightly familiar fashion as he so rarely indulged until he spilled over nimble fingers while lips moved against his.

The burning pressure relinquished its hold, and Nuada followed her directions, knowing that they were not done yet. While the shape, taste and texture of her body held fascination, it was all wrong. He didn't want it, or her. Even the sounds she made spurred him anyway, the dips and crevices and tastes of her sex called to his body. But none of that called to anything else. In spite of what he had told himself, he was an animal, that with the proper stimuli of scent, taste, touch and sound he could be driven to perform so easily.

In the moment when she pushed his shoulders so he would sit on the couch once more, her body naked and flushed gold from head to toe, Nuada hated this woman, and even hated his father. Until he could do nothing but feel, the wet, rippling clasp sinking down on him drowning out all thought. As she had asked, he held on as long as he could while her hips churned, one hand wedged between them to ply the pearl she had shown him earlier, but her escalating moans were the same as his, until this time he crashed and burned like a falling star striking the ground. A choking cry escaped, more of a sob as he strangled on Nuala's name, yanked his mind and heart back before they betrayed him and reached for his twin. Against him, his companion slumped, her face on his shoulder, breasts that he had enjoyed for such a brief time pressed to his chest.

Nuada felt sweaty and grotesque, ill in spirit, body and mind. He knew none of that showed on his face, wearing a mask of neutrality. Even so he was grateful when she slid from his lap, his now limp and moist member falling free of her body. Half-expected post coital touching did not come and he forced himself to look at her. She was already partially dressed, her dress being pulled around her with sure and graceful movements.

He would have said something, but her fingers, ones that tasted and smelled of their combined bodily fluids, touched his lip as she reminded him. "There is no need to pretend that this was anything but what it was, Your Highness. I need no promises."

"That will be all then," moving to stand, his body fatigued in an unfamiliar way. "If you see someone, have them send a bath."

He waited only long enough for her to be gone from his room before he found his garderobe and voided his stomach violently. Clutching at the wooden railing, Nuada spat until he was sure nothing more would come up. Quickly he gathered himself when he heard the soft knock on his door. It would not do for the heir to seem weak and sickly after enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.

XXX

Once composed, clean - and after having flipped the cushion to hide evidence - Nuada slowly opened his mind to his sister removing the blocks that allowed him to feel her. It was with a rush her thoughts filled him, her loneliness without him, the anguish that he had _chosen_to shut her out. Wincing at the tears that pricked their eyes, he swallowed thickly once and made himself reach out to caress her mind lightly.

_...Nuala...please, what may I do for you my beloved sister?_his hands were busy tying the complex knot of his sash as he dressed in the green of the forests while eschewing his armour.

In a torrent she was filling him actively to completion, her heart and mind joining to his but for the place kept forever walled off from her now. _Brother! Please, tell me you will not do that again._

Closing his eyes tightly, Nuada shook his head, _I cannot. It would be a lie, and I will do no such thing to you, sister. Please, ask of me anything that I can do, and I gladly will._

There was a lengthy pause as he felt her going over many possible things she could ask for, most of them so poignantly simple his heart broke. An embrace, a kiss on the cheek, a walk, a flower, the warmth of his head in her lap as she read to him - small things that were nearly absent from their lives now. Before she could decide, he instead moved to join her in her room, pausing just long enough to take a flowered bracelet that had belonged to their grandmother from his small chest of keepsakes. The other thing he did was to call his manservant and request a basket with a meal for two sent to his sister's chambers, all the while Nuala was seeking and sorting what she desired.

Eventually, _My brother, I only, truly, wish for your presence. I do not know what changed between us, I just know that something has. Have I done something to anger you?_

Striding down the hall, the small bauble tucked in his sash, _By the gods, no, you've never done anything to anger me, my sweet sister._Reaching her door he pressed it open gently to see her pacing with a book in hand, a cream and rose coloured dress draping her willowy frame. "Nuala, dearest sister, I thought perhaps a picnic might please you for my penance?"

The hesitation that came as she closed her book, hugging it to her breast as she stared at him left him broken inside. Forcing his movements to remain neutral and as normal as possible, Nuada paced closer and gently take the book from her hands so that he could wrap her fine-boned fingers with his and squeeze reassuringly. Shock as he felt her note how cold his hand was as he lifted it to kiss the backs of her knuckles, and he silently cursed the fact that he hadn't pulled on a set of gloves. Not that gloves would have hidden how cold his lips were now, for he could no longer truly tell the difference between her temperature and his. Still, the texture was such a fine grain against his mouth, and he reveled in it while sending her his love.

It was that which made her finally ease, and arms came around him when he straightened, her cheek laying on the top of his shoulder, "Anything would make me happy so long as it was with you, brother." When she pulled back it was only so she could stroke his cheeks, and he felt his heart stutter at the way such a small thing could suffuse him with joy. "But you're so cold now!"

"That is what happens," wondering why she had never made the connection between their basic biology, yet was glad she had not, for it would raise questions in her. Taking her hand from his face so he could sandwich it between his as he smiled ruefully, "I will regain my normal temperature soon enough. But for the time being, you'll not be able to use me as a foot warmer."

A knock heralded the basket of food he had requested, and he fetched it while scooping one of the throw blankets from her couch and tossed it over a shoulder. Offering her his arm which she promptly took, he led the way to one of the terrace gardens. Small fairies shed their colourful glows as they flitted about one of the little clearings, and a toad of wisdom croaked when they entered, hopping away after catching a fairy for his meal. Nuada kept his sister distracted when he noticed that about to happen to spare her the sight of such, passing her the book he had carried under his arm, wordlessly requesting she read aloud.

Spreading the blanket, Nuada removed the small pots of food, arraying them, along with two mugs for sweet cider which he poured generously. Quiet meal finished, Nuada stretched out on the blanket, hands behind his head, eyes lidded, letting his sister's voice and presence fill him and ease him. There was still the undercurrent of need, but it had dimmed enough that he suddenly had no fear of turning on Nuala to ravish her or press his want to her mind. It was tolerable instead of unbearable.

Quiet rustling as she scooted closer, pulling his head to rest in her lap, fingers tracing his brow. "I missed you sorely brother."

Taking a deep breath of her sweet pepper flowers scent, "I'm sorry sister."

"It is alright," his hair was brushed from his temples, strands plucked and picked up and he felt her beginning to braid the hairs together. "Do you think you will need to do that again?"

"Mute myself?" Feeling her nod more than seeing it, he sighed heavily. "Yes. I do it in battle, you know this. I do it when there is pain, you know that as well. Nuala," shifting his head in her lap to reach up and touch her chin, "I don't do it to hurt you, but because you would hurt much more if I did _not_do it."

So often it was he who glanced away, but this time it was her turn. "I would rather share your pain, my brother, than to have you suffer alone. It is not as though I would shatter if you shared your pains with me."

Sitting up, he turned to face her. "My sister, I was born first into this world, and as such my duty and privilege has always been to protect you. How can I make you understand that the very thought of you in pain makes me wish to die, if it would not take you with me? That is why I have kept myself so distant these past years. It was to find a way to keep you safe. To ask of me anything but to be that, is tantamount to saying you wish me to die. I can be no other way than I am. Anything else I might do for you, I will. I swear it. But do not ask me to let you feel those things that you should be kept safe from." Taking her hands so that he could kiss each palm, "You are my light, Nuala, do not ask me to dim it, for I cannot."

"Why must you insist in that way?" Nuala shook her head at him, her expression sorrowful. "You know that I cannot deny you that if you put it this way."

His lips quirked sadly before he once more kissed her palms. "It is a gift. Accept it, for it is all that I am and all that I have. It is everything."

Her fingers sprouted from his hold, curving over his cheeks and bringing his head close, lips pressing to his brow. "No. You are the gift and the only one I ever will need."

Relaxing now that he knew she wouldn't fight him on that any longer, Nuada lay his head back in her lap so that she could do as she willed. Whether to read, talk, or play with his hair more - it didn't particularly matter so long as she was pleased. He was content in any case, his body's demands met, and the need of his soul for her to be near and happy appeased.

They were quiet, and he was nearly ready to fall asleep when she brought him back. "Brother, why are you all speckly? You were not always so."

Cracking a lid, "The humans call them 'freckles'. It comes from much exposure to the sun." Holding up his hand then pushing back his sleeve to reveal that further up his arm there were none, but his hands were well covered. "We burn easily in the sun's light. You know that. This is the result."

"But I thought that you had improved the elixirs used to protect us?" A soft exploration followed, and he watched from behind his lashes her fascination.

Grunting, "I have. Which is why few of us have become blind from such frequent exposure. But, that does not keep anyone's flesh from darkening like this. At least I do not look as the humans do with theirs. They are splotchy and reddish brown, as though someone had flecked their blood all over them. Rather disgusting if you ask me."

A laugh and then full lips pressed to the side of his nose as she curled over him, "Well I like them. I want some for myself. You'll have to take me Above so that I can gain a few!"

Echoing her laugh with a low chuckle, "Perhaps we shall have another picnic, one Above then. And as charming as you find them, you are beautiful enough without any gracing your fair features."

"And you are always handsome, and say such sweet things to please me." The edges of her hair hung over his face, tickling with their caresses, her hands pressed over his chest. "What is it like Above? Is it very different?"

He mused aloud, "It is. The sky is endless, and there are no walls as far as the eye can see beyond trees and those put there by the hands of people. Boundless it appears, though I have travelled to the edge once before, to see the sea. And the sky it is...blue, such a blue as nowhere else I have ever seen. The sun is bright, and rains down its rays, bathing everything in intense colour. You are like the sky and sun when you wear blue, sister dear, as though you are covering the land around you in brightness."

"You like me in blue that much?" a blush graced her cheeks, and the sudden desire to kiss her welled up.

All he could do was answer roughly before sitting up to break the spell and deny himself, "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

_I really enjoy reviews, and I always make it a habit to reply to those individuals who take time out of their busy day to tell me their thoughts on the stories I write. I won't know how to improve unless others tell me what they like and do not like about a story. A good chunk of why I write is because I wish to improve my skills, not just write a story that pops into my head. And this story's got some themes that some people find squicky, I get that, so reviewing may not come as easily, or finding the words to explain your thoughts might not be coming either, I totally get that. If I had a penny for every time that happens to me, oh I'd be a rich woman. But if anything does come to mind, please feel free to share, I'd really appreciate it. Ya'll are what keeps me writing on a story, because the story's already written in **my** head, I already know where everything is going and how it will end, but the drive to actually put it down for posterity fades when there's not much input. Okay, wait, that sounded whiney. Sorry! But I mean that it's kind of like, if people don't like it enough to indicate they find certain things worthwhile (or not worthwhile as the case may be) how am I to know how to improve? So...yes...Crap, that sounded ranty. Dangit._

Title: The Taste of Perfection  
Author: Rhion  
Rating: AO  
Summary: A temptation, that craving for the knowledge of what true completion was - it all nearly broke him, because of the simple taste of perfection.  
Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.  
AN: An idea that popped into my head. Pre-creation of the Golden Army. As per Lei's request, I'll add a squick warning, and there's also some major UST on Nuada's part, even if he does get laid... Ties into A Darkness Rises Beneath but takes place about two thousand years beforehand, and spans to just after Nuada's self-imposed exile. I'm operating on several assumptions, one is the fact that the Morrigan is a triplet goddess, two the Greek belief that twins were of two fathers (one godly, one mortal), three that Nuada and Nuala are as the gods made them and since their mother is a god, as per Juliette Louise's Fear Me and Fear Her mythos, that the Morrigan knew exactly what she was creating. Anyone familiar with various mythos is aware that hubris of man causes grief, and ignoring the (frequently unclear) dictates/desires of gods incurs their wrath. In this chapter they are about 140ish, the war with humans has begun but not progressed to its culmination. Again, remember that these are a series of scenes that add up to the eventuality that we all know is coming.

At this time unbeta'd, **briala** and I are swamped with NaNoWriMo at the moment.

XXX

"Walk with me my son," Balor approached him, gesturing for him to follow.

Half-wary, Nuada worried that he would receive recriminations for the time he had spent with Nuala the other day. "Yes, Father."

They walked the great stone hallways of the inner palace, tapestries of eras past hanging from the walls. Their footfalls echoed oddly, picking up the nearly soundless tread and throwing it back. It was a strange sort of music, the cadence nearly that of a march.

"I wanted to tell you that I am proud of you, my son," breaking the silence.

Startled, Nuada glanced sharply at him. "For what reason Father? I've done nothing in particular."

"Blanaid did not visit your room then?" the look was faintly amused.

Blinking momentarily as he sorted his memory for the woman's name he admitted his failing. "I never did ask after her name I believe. It did not seem important."

His father paused, halting mid-step before letting out a deep laugh. "You'd best not let a woman ever know that!" Nuada nearly stumbled from the force of his father clapping him on the shoulder. "And that is a vital lesson any young man needs to know - all cats are quite grey in the dark, but you had most certainly remember their names. At least for a time."

Smiling weakly, Nuada tried to look chagrined. "As you say Father, your experience in this is much more than mine."

"Indeed it is," nodding once.

They continued, and Nuada barely noted the familiar surroundings, wondering how he could flee this conversation as quickly as possible. He wanted no more reminders of what he had done, wanted nothing to do with the memory of what he had gone through. Still, it was gratifying to have returned to his father's good graces.

His thoughts were interrupted by Balor's suddenly serious tone. "I trust that it assisted you in dealing with your issues pertaining to your sister, and that you will be able to keep yourself on a tighter reign?"

Sucking in a deep breath, he made himself nod agreement. "Of course Father. As you say, all cats are grey in the dark, and it does not matter much which one it is I deal with."

"Good, we understand each other," Balor halted before his quarters. "See that you continue to quench your blade elsewhere and far from Nuala and I will not have to send her to another court to keep you from temptation."

"Of course Father, I will make sure that it is not necessary for you to do so." Forcing himself to stop his father before entering his rooms. "Father, I wished to know if...if it was acceptable to take her for a picnic Above. Not far, but she requested that I show her the sky. Must I deny her?"

Balor pursed his lips, staring at him for a long time. "Will you control yourself?"

"Yes Father. It is for a picnic, nothing more. I only wish her to be happy and well," it was a struggle to not shout and rail - for that was _always_ all he wanted, he would _never_do anything to do her harm. Ever.

"Then you may," acquiescing. "But do not tarry long Above, else I may suspect you of impropriety."

And here he had thought he was returned to his father's graces. At the heart of the matter, his king believed him a monster, without honour, without self-control. One who would do harm unto the one person he loved above all others, honoured above all others, needed above all others. His nature may be bestial, his nature may be dark, his nature may be all things of force - but he was not without honour. He was not without control or discipline. Searching his father's familiar and loved visage, he sought desperately to find some sign that his father trusted him at all.

And found no comfort there.

The knowledge that his father could deny everything that Nuada had done over the years to keep himself from doing anything to his sister left him bitter. Even as he was what the gods and his father had made him, he was still lessor, still not enough. He despaired of ever proving to Balor he was fit and sound to his satisfaction. Hoping that another sacrifice of self might sway him, Nuada stilled the quivering wail in his lungs before it had any breath to be born.

Bowing, "I will see to my needs before and after if that will satisfy you."

Balor grunted in surprise, "More than. See that you do."

XXX

Steeling himself, Nuada warned Nuala that he was going to seek to silence their bond for a time. Of course there was her pleading, but he again reiterated that he must do such for it was their natures to be as they were. Since his was to guard her, and hers was to be connected to him, it was a struggle that neither could win because of the dictates that constrained both. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly, ignoring the ache of the silence in his mind and heart as he opened the door to his rooms.

Bladain was there, the woman who was not Nuala, would never be Nuala. He had expected her to be dressed, he had also expected her to be in his bed. Instead she was on the couch, nude, eating bites of winter melon as she lounged. It was purest relief that she was there and not invading his bed, or expecting anything of him beyond what they had shared last time.

Shutting the door behind him quickly so that there was no chance of some prying eyes seeing her, "I am glad you answered my request, Lady Bladain."

The smile she quirked around the finger she was sucking clean was amused. "So you _do_know my name, Your Highness? It appears I lost the bet I made with myself."

Taken aback, Nuada's brow creased. "A bet? With oneself?"

"Hmmhmm..." Another nibble, her lids were hooded. "If you knew it, then I would treat myself to a nice soak in the springs."

"And if I did not?" moving to take the goblet she held out to him.

"Then I would treat myself to a nice soak in the springs!" her laughter made no sense to him.

Confused, Nuada sought to cover it with a deep drink, emptying his cup of wine far too quickly for his tastes. "And so either way you win."

A piece of melon was pressed to his mouth as she leaned close, "Of course. Never bet when you know you might lose. Now, what might you like?"

Once more he was startled by the direction Bladain took, thinking that the question was fairly odd considering it should be obvious. "I would like to lay with you."

"I guessed that already Your Highness," the softness of her mouth touched his cheek while she spoke, the sweet of melon on her breath as she whispered. "I meant what would you like to partake of? Do you have time for fun, or are you in a hurry?"

Cocking his head, he shrugged. "You are better versed than I am, I do not know what would take less or more time. I would not say that I am in a hurry, however I would also not say that I have all day." He took a deep breath before forging on, "I do know that I would appreciate it if you were available after my engagements later on today to spend a greater amount of time with me."

Bladain quirked a brow, sucking on her bottom lip. "Fast now, and slower later then. I will await to attend to your pleasure here after we are done now." Nuada tensed, and she let out a throaty laugh. "I will merely take a nap - here. On the couch, Your Highness, for that is clearly where you prefer me."

"That is acceptable," releasing a sigh of relief.

Hands were at his belt as soon as he finished agreeing, and he found his manhood quickly brought out into the open as she slid from the couch, kneeling between his legs as she spread them. Gasping when she took his soft prick into her lips the wet suction and fluttering of her tongue over his member caused him to harden in short order. Swirls and suckling, the twisting of her hand around his shaft pulled groans from him until he had to clench his hands and his head tipped back. It had been long enough since he last sated his body - in truth, since he had given Bladain his virginity - that it took nearly no time before he was spilling, and she was swallowing around him. A kerchief was wiped over his groin until the stickiness was gone, and her deft fingers were retying his belt and straightening him up as he regained his wind.

Rising slowly, he dipped a bow to her. "Thank you."

Bladain returned to picking over the platter of finger foods on the low table. "You are welcome Sire. I will await your return patiently, so please, take your time and enjoy your picnic with your royal sister."

Stiffening, Nuada shot her a hard look that she obviously took no note of as he fastened his armour's ties. "I'll do just that."

XXX

He was tired of the on again, off again war with humans. For every five years of relative quiet, there was an entire one of war. The seasons passed and Nuada found a rhythm to abide by, grating as it was. Pulling his dark navy gloves off and tucking them into his sash, Nuada strode purposefully away from his father's quarters where he had briefed him of the battles he had partaken of. His manservant Turlach met him halfway, holding out a wineskin.

As Nuada took long, deep pulls from the skin, Turlach released a sigh. "Sire, Lady Aine has refused to attend you today."

Pausing, he let his hand fall from the position of dispensing the strong wine. "And what of Finea? Or Caireen?"

"Or any of the other women that you have entertained of late? Not a one has chosen to go to your quarters." Turlach shook his head. "One could suppose that General Colin's daughter, the Lady Muirne would be happy for Your Royal Highness' company."

Making a face, Nuada grunted once, taking another long pull. "Unsuitable. The General wants too much a match for she and I, and she wants what I will not give her. Find me another." Seeing his manservant's unease, he waved his hand. "What is it? Out with it man."

"Her Royal Highness is also in your chambers." Turlach was older than him by at least a century, and had been his personal servant for nearly all of his life, and as such Nuada was able to read the tightness at the corner of his manservant's mouth as disapproval. "She has been there since the evening before last."

Halting Nuada turned to him in full. "Turlach, I have known you for how long?"

"Over a hundred years, Sire," the answer stiff, nearly nervous.

"Has serving me been so truly terrible that you cannot fulfill my fairly low expectations?" asking as he capped the half finished wineskin.

Surprise altered the other man's features. "My Liege, I live but to serve you."

Grunting, Nuada pursed his lips and cocked his head. "No, you serve firstly my father whom you spy upon me for, which I have tolerated all these years. Secondly you inform the servants when my frequently neat room _might_ need cleaning. Your third service is to relay any requests I have for baths or food that I make. Fourth is to see to my weapons and gear, which I have never allowed you to, as between us, I am the warrior and my gear is vital for my life. My fifth, and only true personal service I have _ever_ asked of you is to find me suitable female companionship when I require it. These are not difficult tasks, to be sure, even a human could do it. So, why have you failed me, and why have you allowed my sister to take up residence in my quarters when it is so unseemly?"

Turlach flushed at his accusations. "Your Highness I -"

Cutting him off, "No more. Find someone else to serve so faithfully. I will even give you a letter of commendation. Your last service for me will be to send a meal for my sister and to inform her I will be indisposed."

Not waiting to see if he would do it, Nuada spun on his heel to return to his father's quarters. If he was to have any respect as the Heir and Warleader _outside_ of the battlefield, it was time for such charades to end. Barely sparing the guards at his father's door a sliver of his attention, he strode in unannounced. It truly didn't matter - he was Heir, Warleader and chiefly his father's _son_. No one would stop him, even if they whispered behind his back.

Balor rose quickly, "Nuada, what is the meaning of this?"

Glancing behind his shoulder to be sure the door had closed, he stared long and hard at his father, treating him to the same examination the King had given him so often. "Next time you wish to know of my personal activities - ask me instead of my valet. I will be having Turlach replaced forthwith. The games end now."

His father held up a hand, nodding. "You are a man now, that is correct. Your business is your own and having a handpicked man would be good for you."

Nuada inclined his head with the barest of twitches at the acknowledgement, but it did not satisfy. "If you feel you must have spies set upon me, Father, at least have the courtesy to make sure they are not so obvious. I have known for years what he was, but as he did what little I asked of him well enough, I let it be."

"He failed his duties to you?" Balor sat heavily in his chair, gesturing for Nuada to come and sit.

Ignoring the offer, he jerked his chin up. "My needs are simple, and he failed in finding me a suitable woman and allowed Nuala to take up residence in my rooms before I was...fit enough company."

"Ah... Nuada, my son, sit," another gesture to the chair.

Hiding his grimace away, he did as bid finally, claiming the edge of the chair for while in his midnight blue armour and with his sword at hip - it was uncomfortable. "Since I will be delayed, it behooves me to find a necessary companion before I am allowed to see Nuala in a somewhat timely manner Father. I've little time for this."

His father combed a hand through his beard thoughtfully. "Allowed you say? And who has put such a constraint on you my son, for I certainly have not."

Scoffing, "Have you not? I was under the impression these last decades that I had best 'quench my blade elsewhere' so as to not put her at risk of catching my illness. Nothing else would satisfy you, and I can see that you are still not mollified." Continuing flatly as though musing aloud something he had just realized, "Then again, nothing likely ever will, for if I could find whatever it was, I would do it to silence your disapproval and regain your trust. However, I am man enough to know when such battles are lost. And at this point it is no longer worth my time when there are far more pressing matters to deal with than the worries of a paranoid man incapable of trusting his own Heir and offspring."

Balor met his stern gaze with a long, silent and imperviously blank mask. It was similar to staring into a mirror in some ways. They were at an impasse, and both knew it - or Nuada knew it. There was no going back any longer, the silent war of wills was now far more than lines in the sand. Nuada knew it was a war with no victor, only losers, but would not give in and roll over like a meek puppy showing its belly. He was man enough now, and spent nearly all of his time Above during war-years, the handful of 'quiet' ones usually times he used to find and train more troops, that this situation was no longer tenable. It was about time that his King knew that.

"You have gone through many women in such a brief time, as though they were plentiful," the topic was the same, the underlying issues still present even if it was no direct answer to his statements. "Can you at least pretend to be a more...regular man?"

Standing though he was not dismissed, "It is better to appear to be a monster than actually be one and raise their hopes that I might desire more of them." Sketching a bow, "Was it not you who taught me that one cannot have it both ways, Father? And so I go, as you know I must, for some sad attempt at appeasing you."

He didn't wait for his father's response, nor did he care about it. Resolving to go find Bladain as that was a woman who knew his needs, and was friend enough to grant him mercy, Nuada exited his father's chambers. As the door closed, he knew his adolescence was truly at an end.

XXX

His muscles were stiff, but it was of no import. Nuada was used to it at this point, these stretches of time when there were always wounds healing, pain to mute and muffle from Nuala, and had become just normal items to do during his days. He didn't let it hinder his activities, or the time he spent with her. They had taken to dancing in the gardens, not just walking or picnicking, and grace was a necessary thing to maintain. Nuala of course felt no effects of any shared wounds, so he had learned to hide his stumbles and winces until it was all locked away behind the mask of comfort and ease.

Their meal was spread out and they had finished their paces after he did a grand spin with her in his arms, just to hear her laugh. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and her hair whirled out, laughter ringing in his ears like music. His heart lifted with each peal and as he set her down both of them were breathless with it, and she half stumbled to the blanket falling upon it with a giggle. Chuckling he sank down beside her with a bit more reserve. Their music-less dances were something that kept him sane while on the march, their picnics all he looked for when it came to returning. Otherwise, there were days he had considered never returning, finding little enough to truly hold him other than duty to Underhill. He could survive Above and Without, could find some place where no humans were so plentiful, some place where a man could have a shadow of peace and a bit of land to call home.

Propping himself up on an elbow as he lay on his side, "It will be nice once winter comes. The war season will pass, and I will be able to take you Above to see snow again."

Nuala lit up like a flash, "Snow? It's almost that time? Really?"

"Yes," laughing at the fact that she so easily lost track of time. "Mounds of the stuff, it is everywhere. You will have to dress very warmly, sister. We would not want you to catch cold."

At some point he found himself brushing and braiding his sister's hair, combing his fingers through the silken tresses, the sensation tickling between his fingers. Their conversation had gone in all directions as their long talks usually did, meandering through everything large and small except the few areas he kept her from. But those were things she no longer pressed him on, finally, to his heartfelt relief, accepting that there were times when he had to shut her out. Part of why they were able to spend such long hours like this was due to those times, and partly to assuage his guilt at hurting her in that manner. As well as reward for himself for having to swallow bitter medicine.

"I want to see where you are hurt, my brother," her head tilted to one side as he tied off the herringbone braid he was weaving.

Stroking his hands over her shoulders as he leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her head, "I am fine."

Nuala took the hem of her dress, lifting it to show the bare and curled leg beneath, "No you are not. I've the stitches to prove it. Now let me see!"

He was glad her back was to him so she did not see how his eyes locked on the expanse of marble white skin, marred with matching scars to his and by a neatly stitched gash. Moistening his lips, he struggled for an even tone, "Nuala, I'm wearing trousers."

"So?" a puzzled frown furrowed her brows as she twisted to look up at him, leg still dangerously bare.

Gritting his teeth Nuada forced his gaze to find a different direction to stare as his entire body came alive with the hunger to touch her skin. "We are in a garden, private as it may appear, it is still a place where just about anyone could come upon us."

She waved a hand dismissively, "You are my brother, and everyone knows that. Any who came past would know that. Besides, what is wrong with it? You've nothing I have not seen before."

Jealousy surged up and he smothered it before he showed any of it as he summoned a politely interested voice. "And where might you have seen what all a man has?"

"Whenever you are in the bath," she shrugged, twisting around more, the hem of her dress going with her, hiking up even higher, making his mouth go dry and his hands shake.

He swore he could feel his left eye twitching in its socket, and he ground out as best he could in a stern fashion, "Speaking of which, you truly should stop doing that you know. I am an adult, there is no need for my sister to go about washing me as though I were an invalid. It is not as if I barge in on you," Nuada had to pause as he thought his voice might crack when the image of Nuala, nude, in a tub awaiting his hands to clean the dirt of the day from her body burst into his mind's eye, "when you are bathing."

Nuala rose up on her knees, hands going to his shoulders, "You could, I miss when you used to wash my hair, brother. Oh, that would be lovely, it has been so very long."

"Yes. Well. Never mind that, it is unimportant." Clamping his hands on her waist for the simple need to still their fine trembling, "I am not taking off my trousers simply so you might see a few stitches."

He realized his mistake too late as she came in to kiss his cheek, her svelte form pressing against him. "You are quite impossible, dearest Nuada." When she leaned away, he knew he was heated and flushed, he had felt it wash over him head to toe at the compound of contact, imagery and how his head had suddenly filled to the brim with her scent. "Are you quite well? You've turned gold and you are much warmer than a few moments ago."

Gently he pushed her away from him so that there was space between their bodies in the hopes she would not notice his erection. "I am fine, my sweet sister, no need for concern."

She stared at him for a moment, her head canted to the side. "I am not comforted. You had best let me see your wound, it likely needs to be examined if you are taking a fever so quickly."

It took every scrap of discipline to still his racing heart. "No, no that is not necessary. At all."

"You always wish to check over my wounds, brother. I expect the same courtesy of you," steel entered her countenance. "It is not right for you to tell me no in this. I will not be swayed. If you are hurt, I know about it, and I wish to check you over myself, to ensure that you will be healthy and well, for I love you far too much to risk losing you." Her full lips firmed, and she sat back on her heels, once more lifting her dress to show him the wound that was twin to his own that spanned from her outer thigh to just above her knee as it curved towards her inner leg. "Check mine as you always do, and I will check yours. I know mine always heal so much faster when you do so. I think it has something to do with our link, so we must be sure to apply our energies to helping the other."

Tested to the limits of his ability, Nuada grabbed the hem of her dress, yanking it down to cover her thigh. "_Please_ Nuala. Stop that, we are children no longer!"

"Well of course we're not!" She yanked the material from his grasp, "Now see to me, so that I might see to you."

Desperate, he searched for something, anything to end his torture. "We are in a semi-public place!"

"Well then let us retire to your room and we can see to each other properly," it all sounded so reasonable, and so unbearable said like that, and it forced him to begin shutting her out for fear of having his thoughts spill over too much. "That is a very odd look, brother, and - oh! You stop that this instant!"

Turning from her he quickly put their picnic away, "We do as we must, sister."

Her aggravation was like a cloak thrown over, and into his mind, _Nuada, why do you do these things? Your constant protests are rude and unkind to someone who loves you so much. I would never deny you anything, and yet you deny me constantly._

He almost responded, but she was rising, and he felt how much her heart hurt, for he had not shut _that_ out, only closed the door on his thoughts so she could not feel _him_. Normally she was so graceful, normally she was so calm, even when upset or hurt, but he must have touched a nerve for Nuala stumbled. With a soft cry she landed even as he was diving forward to catch her. Hissing as he felt his stitches strain, and his knee burned as the skin split.

Nuala let out a word he had no idea that she even _knew_ let alone would ever use, as she lifted her hem once more. Moving to her he checked the small wound, relieved that her stitches had not come undone, and that it was nothing more than a skinned knee. Massaging the area, Nuada dipped his face to kiss the insult to her body, the taste of cloying sweet blood on his lips licked away before he rose his face.

"I'm sorry, brother, does it hurt you overly?" spread fingers reached out to touch his own knee. "Here I have caused _you_ to bleed."

Summoning a smile for her, Nuada picked her up as though she were a babe. "It is alright, however, I believe it best to not trust you on your feet at the moment."

Arms wrapped around his neck, face burrowing into his throat, "It does not even hurt." Her hold on him belied the words that followed, "You do not have to carry me."

"Maybe for you, but I've no inclination to trust my head to your fumbling, else I might wind up with a goose-egg to join my other many dings," he softened the sentiment with a kiss to her brow as he snorted while reminding himself to send a servant to clean up the mess of their picnic.

XXX

Equine screams, metal on metal, shouts of the dying, and the struggling filled the air. Nuada fought with all his might, but he saw his men crumbling around him in twos and threes. What thoughts were in his mind were implacable determination to find out why General Colin had not come in immediately to join the fray. The sun was long since risen, and he felt the elixir that protected his light sensitive eyes wearing off slowly. There was no time to take a swig of the water he had laced with it, he was too busy defending himself and his last men. They were in a tight knot, a space barely big enough around them to maneuver. His fighting was reduced to nothing but weary hacking, slashing, and shoving, coupled with the occasional kick to try and unbalance a foe.

With little room, muddied and trampled ground beneath his boots and the remnants of his men were enough to trip even the most nimble of men. That and the human bodies, some even somewhat alive, moaning and clutching his ankles or the hem of his battle coat, the heavy material weighted with thin chain sandwiched between the thick fabric, and sodden with sweat and blood. It was all he could do to keep his feet, as he bled from many wounds, his mind opened wide along with his senses to the battlefield. While everyone appeared to move so terribly slow in comparison to him, he was still only a man, and when the arrow came, there was no room to move. No room to dodge.

The agony was distant, and he felt Nuala scream. Taking the pain in both hands of his mind, Nuada yanked it away from her, into himself, until it was him screaming out. He was echoed by triumphant humans as they descended, and he was dragged down and down to blackness.

_Nuala, my sister, my love, I am sorry..._ his last thoughts as the field was covered in ravens.

...

Swallowing the dry parchment pain in his throat, his eyes released precious moisture. A great pressure in his chest compressed his lungs as he fought for air, and the sky, the beautiful blue sky was so intense he thought his retinas would burn. Cruelty of cruelties, the croak of death and battlefield harbinger beside his ear, a raven flapped and ruffled its wings. He was not dead, no matter the impossible agony in his body, and Nuada struggled to catalogue his wounds for some hope of distraction for the inevitable living feast his flesh would provide. It was to be ignominious and insulting to have the battle-fiends of his mother eat him alive, however since he was not crumbled stone, he was still a warrior and would not give up.

In the background he could feel and hear Nuala, her fear buffeting him like a gale wind. Terror at why she was so weak, why there was blood all over her, why she had no strength to find him. For her sake he hung on, but had nothing left to reach out and comfort her. But the croakers only hopped about his body, shading him from the vision of clear blue skies. It was a beautiful day, what little he could see of it, but for the buzzing of flies, indistinct moans of humans left to die by their own kind.

Nuada's mind drifted in and out, taking note of how his left leg was nearly hamstrung, the taste of blood burbling from his throat into his mouth. A weak wracking cough jerked him head to toe, but his mother's beasts only cackled to themselves, wings flapping. Ribs were broken, at least three, two piercing a lung - the source of blood in his air. Fumbling with the ties to his armour, he wanted nothing more than to relieve some of the weight that crushed his chest, but there was no nimbleness in his long fingers to do so. His dirty hand flopped back to the field, glued there by the filth of once lovely and lush green fields.

_...I would clothe you in the sky..._

_...My sweet brother, they come for you,_ whispering hope he dared not cling to, but dared even less to relinquish.

XXX

Delirium, a madness of vision, sound and touch. Nuada thrashed as healing magics and poultices ripped him asunder. Sidhe magic was a subtle thing, not prone to grand revitalization, and to push it to such moulds was dangerous and costly. Distantly he thought he heard healers driving themselves and himself on, ripping years - decades, centuries - away from their own life threads to force such power into his flesh. On the other side, too far away, was Nuala, the same treatment making her writhe and scream for him.

She-he-they had never felt such pain, and while he was clinging to it, desperation flogging him to take it in and fill his soul up with it, even he could not contain all. Nuala-Nuada-them were too far separate. In twin voices they screamed and raved, nearly doing more damage to their body-bodies as they fought to end the separation. Incomplete, ravaged and un-whole, seeking and grasping for completion until relief suddenly came.

A voice beat at the haze and fatigue Nuada felt a brief sense of own self came, "You look at her my son, you hold on for her." The hand was strong that turned his face upon a pillow? to face his beloved sister and see her gasping for breath as she lay there dying if he gave up. "You hang on to protect her my son, you hang on and you do not let go!"

"Enough, my King, please, leave the children alone!" a voice, Rhiana, healer-mother figure-protector, daring to raise itself against a king.

Bitter smiles grace his-her-their face-faces, mocking the stupidity of men before the bitterness quickly fled in being held by familiar gold eyes. The lines of self were so blurred, he-she-they were not sure which was who, connected in that way they had once been so long ago. A thought started and ended simultaneously between them, his-hers-theirs hands entwining in spite of the pain, palms pressed tightly, heel to meat, fingers clutching the backs of knuckles and nearly-wrist. Faded away world around them, arguments between frazzled man and woman, frightened and stressed, needlessly and needfully angry, but that was not him-her-them.

_Are you mine?_ she-he-they asked.

_Yes,_ the only answer there was.

_Always?_ hopeful and sure, still asking for confirmation.

_Always,_ the always truth that was unending.

_Scared..._ a thrill of it at the weakness and pain.

_I am here...you-me-we are not alone._

Peace.

XXX

Mental separation and full-recall of self built slowly until Nuada was able to understand his surroundings in full. His own person once more, no matter how entwined their minds and hearts were, he knew that his limbs were actually his. The bed was his, he could smell himself all over it far more than Nuala. Cracking a lid, the great bastion of pelt and silk and linen was where he was of a certainty, for his ceiling was high overhead, rounded like a womb, emerald green like the grass that covered the Hill paths. He was thankful it was not blue of sky like her room, else he might give up and will them to death, forgetting that it was not sky above with no ravens ready to pluck his eyes from his skull.

Releasing a croaked sigh, his head twisted of its own accord towards Nuala. She was asleep, exhaustion painting what he could see of her face. A stab of realization that there was a thick hardened paste spanning from one cheek to the other and over her pert nose, and as his face twitched he felt the cracking of a similar treatment on his own features. Sighing anyway, Nuada summoned up the strength to roll onto his side, ignoring how things shifted and stabbed internally. If he was not dead already, he would not be dying any time soon, so the pain was nothing but a needless message of nerves, organs and muscle telling him that something was wrong. Situating himself gingerly, a bandaged hand came up to stroke a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow into her face, away.

"My child, you should continue to rest," a gentle touch on his shoulder spread ease into the muscles of his back slowly. "She is well as can be, as are you."

Murmuring, "Why is she in here?"

His bed dipped and his old nurse, now more of Nuala's companion and governess, sat on the edge, smoothing the blankets with one hand. "You both would have died otherwise. Your bodies resisted the healing arts in your needs to be beside the other. I have never seen such a thing before, though there are stories of same-sex twins having links, but not ever on this scale."

Nuada had no desire to roll over and face her, his world was held in his eyes and wrapped around one hand, yet he had questions in need of answers. "You have theories."

"Of course, Your Highness," the bed shifted further and he felt the woman leaning over him to hold a small cup to his lips as she lifted his head enough so that in spite of the awkward pose he could moisten his parched lips. "There have always been theories. But whether they are correct or not, I do not know."

In her sleep, Nuala mewled barely, just under her breath, and he gingerly curled her closer, forcing an arm under her pillow so it could curve around her back. His hand encountered skin and bandages, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He hurt, but he was alive enough to take notice of such tiny details.

Hissing, "She is undressed!"

Rhiana let out a faint laugh, "And the two of you bathed together until you were nearly ninety. She is your sister, what could be wrong with that?"

He nearly sputtered, his vocal cords tightening along with every muscle in his body. "Put some clothes on her."

"And some for yourself as well?" Rhiana was very mild as she moved away.

"_Yes_, before Father finds out!" growling as he scooted away, pushing at his covers enough to mound some between himself and Nuala.

Rhiana came near once more, on the other side of the bed, a robe in hand. "He is well aware of your states of dress. His arguments are moot, you are as the gods made you."

Nuada gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes closed when the mystic pulled the covers back, revealing a glimpse of Nuala's nudity that he shut out as fast as he could. "The gods made us brother and sister, and that is how it is."

"Then you too believe this is some test set to be passed?" The motion and tug of covers let him know his sister was at least somewhat attired.

Gathering his wits and his will, Nuada rolled from the bed, to stumble upright, only to have Rhiana meet him halfway, a pair of loose pants over her other arm. "What else could it be? We are tested by the gods and must show strength otherwise all is lost. It does not matter what I believe anyway."

She 'hmm'd at him as she assisted him, then pressed him back to the bed. "Your mother, the Morrigan, she created both of you and carried you in her womb of wombs. She knew what she wrought. And we have evidence now that is clear that you are both incomplete without the other in all ways."

"And that matters not at all in the face of a King's order, Rhiana, I am a soldier and beholden to him," growling as he scooted back under the covers. Swallowing down the ache as Nuala's hand quested for his even in near catatonia. "All I can do is what I already do."

"I know, child, I know," and he found himself tucked in as though he were still a small child, her expression so familiar and maternal. "I just fear what your mother may do."

Frowning, he shook his head, "Nothing of course. She abandoned us, battle is fickle, and a goddess of it would be just as capricious."

"A mother never truly abandons her children if she is remotely fit." He took the proffered cup of water after she had poured drops of some vile brew into it. "Even on the battlefield with all dead, you were alive, shielded by ravens. She knows of you still, and watches over you both."

Downing the contents, he passed the cup back, waiting for the languor to come over him. "Then she has a particularly peculiar way of showing it."

XXX

Balor paced back and forth before his hearth. Rhiana was an old friend, a former mistress, and a woman he cared for at one point. But now she was conspiring against him, as was the mystic bitch his son frequented more than any of his other dalliances.

"They are out of danger," he ground out. "It is time for them to return to their separate arrangements, and cease the unseemliness."

Bladain was still an attractive woman, but the eternal youthfulness had fled as she had torn some of her lifeforce away to give to his children, "Sire, I sacrificed not as much as poor, dead Uliarum, but I still did give much to His Highness' life. I felt the threads that bind them, and their healing is not complete. To separate them may put it all at risk, and as much as I value Their Royal Highnesses, to ask me to give up my life simply for your desires is...unjust, Your Majesty."

"Your opinion is duly noted," he said, keeping his ire from his voice only by long habit. "But I want no risk of animal behaviour besmirching my daughter's honour. Already the Court is doing far more than whispering."

Rhiana squared her shoulders, her head coming up, and he could not help but still find her willfulness and strength appealing. "Your Majesty, to think that His Highness would do anything to put Her Highness at risk is unacceptable. You have long questioned him, and forced him to abide by your rules, which he has done without complaint. I, who raised them, know more of their natures than you do. Prince Nuada will do nothing, you have him too afraid to."

Waving a hand, Balor felt himself flush at such accusations of unfairness from someone he held in esteem and still bore affection for. Yet he knew she was right enough, his heart broke for his children, and how the gods had twisted them for their sport. As a father he wished nothing more than to protect them, for them to be happy. But they were born and given tests to show their mettle, and he would do nothing to put them at risk. He could not.

Praying to his long fled wife for the sake of their children, "I am a father, and a king, because of this, perhaps I worry over much." Dismissing Bladain, "You may go, and see to your arts. Rhiana, remain awhile and share your thoughts with me."

Once the healing mystic had left, he held out a hand to his one time lover and still friend as he sat on one of the long couches. She didn't take his hand as she once would have, but sat, her legs tucked to one side, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her bearing was regal, and still moved him, making him wonder where that had gone wrong.

"Balor, you and I have known each other for centuries," she began immediately. "I know your children like no one else. You must give up this...obsession of yours as it is unhealthy for all involved. Nuada will do nothing to harm Nuala, it would be as though he were destroying a part of himself. Those two are bonded more deeply than even I had ever suspected, let alone anyone else, and I can only think that their mother created them so for a reason. Perhaps it would be best if you did not stand in her way. The Morrigan is not one to brook interference without great cost, and we know now that she still watches over them."

That twisted at him painfully - his love still watched their children, but had left him simply for the fact that she had grown _bored_. And left him with two young ones to raise, a prophecy that was worthless, and a broken heart. The Morrigan was fickle, her loves flighty and meaningless once she was finished with them, her gifts and graces easily taken away. That was what he had seen his beloved children as - gifts she had not yet robbed him of, other than to make a mockery of what was right and natural.

Heaving a deep sigh, "I have found myself having to ask those who bring word to me, 'Are you questioning my son's discipline or my daughter's honour? Do you creep about their chambers to peep and spy on them?' and I have to ask these things more and more. The older Nuada and Nuala become, the more news is brought to me of...peculiar behaviours. One evening, I had no fewer than four Lords coming to me offering scandalous information and worries of impropriety. Nuada had been seen in the gardens he and Nuala frequent with her dress ruched up nearly to her _waist_. What am I to think, Rhiana? What am I to do? When there are so many bringing me such tidings..."

The cool comfort of her hands taking his came without warning. "Balor, you can only trust in the gods and defend your children. If someone becomes too...vocal...send him to Nuada to deal with. Your son is more than capable of defending against such attacks, you have seen to it."

It was a near thing not laugh outright, and suppress it to a chuckle. "And then I will be less one Lord, hmm?"

"Quite relieved of their head, yes," Rhiana smiled. "Not that one would be able to tell much difference before and after, other than by the fact that the Court might be slightly less noisy."


End file.
